


these insistences

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8378110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Let me be this: the warmth that encapsulates our days. I can be the waves that lap on your shore.(Or, a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid”.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allthatconfetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthatconfetti/gifts).



> A happy happy happy birthday to one of the happiest happenstances in fandom, to the big sister who became such a huge part of my life in so little time. This is nowhere near what you've done for me but I really hope that you like it. ♡ Thanks for reaching out/letting yourself be reached out, for the advice and the newfound ways to love the boys. It honestly makes me cry thinking about how much you care for me… Like, I never thought I'd meet someone like you in fandom, of all places!! I can't put into words how special you are to me and I'm so sorry for bugging you so early in the morning or being a really whiny kid, haha. I hope that all the good things come your way, always, and that we'll be friends for an amazingly long time. I love you so much and, again, happiest birthday to you. ♡
> 
> ***
> 
> For [reference](http://hca.gilead.org.il/li_merma.html). Tbh you don't need to have read the story nor have watched the Disney movie. Just know that in exchange for legs, the little mermaid had to give up her voice. Also, Jeon Wonwoo is not allergic to fish in this fic, let me live.

He comes to Soonyoung breathless and restless, stressed and pressed. He can’t find a safe place for his hands to latch on to, so he fears the weight of his hands when he jolts Soonyoung awake, training his cadence so as to speak with patience. _You’re naked. I found you here_.

“I’m Wonwoo, the fisherman’s son,” he says, and Soonyoung badly wants to tell him _my voice died in my chest_. But most of all, Soonyoung wants to tell him that his name is Soonyoung, that he is the angry man’s son.

Angry, because it feels like Soonyoung’s throwing away his life on this one venture. He stares at the hand Wonwoo offers him then takes it the second Wonwoo’s about to withdraw, letting himself get used to the sensation of Wonwoo’s fingers against his.

Angry, because Soonyoung doesn’t know how to go back to his father if he tried.

But, despite that, Soonyoung finds himself dragged up and led to the small house looking over the beach, finds himself clothed and seated on the dining table. The shirt itches against his back while he waits for breakfast in Wonwoo’s sunlit kitchen. The sleeves feel weighty and he wants them gone in the face of a bowl of steaming porridge, where each spoonful digs up a piece of abalone that looks impossibly tender, almost melting, yet maintains a slight chew whenever Soonyoung slips it into his mouth.

Wonwoo smiles and asks, “Do you like it?” Soonyoung nods. A little after Soonyoung finishes his bowl, Wonwoo gets him another, this time topped with a poached egg that glistens yellow when Soonyoung digs his spoon through the middle.

Soonyoung ends up smiling at its richness.

It makes Wonwoo smile, too. “I make this so often for my father that I can make it with my eyes closed,” he explains. “He’s not here right now, but he’ll be back when the sun goes down.” And somehow, he knows better than to expect Soonyoung to get up and go before then. “Help me make dinner? Then you can tell me how you ended up on the beach.”

At the way Soonyoung’s face falls, Wonwoo laughs. “I’ll find a way to get it out of you somehow.” He means he’ll wait for Soonyoung to smile.

He means he’ll wait for Soonyoung to get used to the feeling of the spare bed in the spare bedroom, for Soonyoung to sleep soundly while his father slips in late at night without sound, smelling of the ocean and a few cigarettes. The next morning, Soonyoung wakes up to the smell of breakfast cooking and frowns at the sight of Wonwoo flipping fish, though the fish itself is perfectly browned on the outside, moist and flaky inside, fat glistening on its surface. Wonwoo notices him and beckons him closer, wrapping an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulders.

“I know it’s not abalone, but it’s just as good, I promise,” Wonwoo says, but what Soonyoung finds amazing is how Wonwoo uses his free hand to touch the fish, fingers gauging its doneness, and doesn’t back away so quickly. “Hand me a plate? It’s in the drawer over there.”

Soonyoung comes back with a creamy white plate on top of which Wonwoo places breakfast. On the dining table, there is kimchi, two bowls of rice, a soup whose broth is laced with something fermented, rich and earthy. In the sink, the same set of utensils and a cup for Wonwoo’s father’s morning tea. They’ll probably never catch each other, Soonyoung thinks, not while he wakes up just when Soonyoung’s body finally allows him to sleep, free from all the dreams of his body being split in half.

“What are you thinking of?” Wonwoo asks gently as he scoops a bit of rice into his bowl of soup then proceeds to breaking it down, a spoonful poised and ready for his mouth. “Do you feel sick?” Soonyoung shakes his head. “Huh. I feel like you should be…” Soonyoung shrugs. “How about—” Wonwoo’s eyebrows knit together.

He looks at Soonyoung, whose sleeves are covering his knuckles and who’s struggling with the thin, elongated chopsticks. And Soonyoung—he just stares back, mouth loose enough for him to be unaware of his bottom lip trembling until Wonwoo’s eyes dart to it.

“Did you have a bad dream last night?”

Soonyoung nods. Wonwoo just breaks the fish apart into two clean pieces and places one on Soonyoung’s plate, pushes the untouched bowl of soup towards him.

“Eat,” Wonwoo says. “If you’re more awake, it can’t touch you.”

 

 

 

Wonwoo’s father is a gruff man. Gruff, to drown out the noise of his joints creaking, and he walks with a steady determination towards breakfast that Wonwoo’s made for him before the sun filters through the blinds. Soonyoung pads out of his room, too, and joins them for a cup of tea.

“Mute, is he?” the father points out. Wonwoo nods and pours more tea into his cup. “And you found him on the beach?”

“Yes. I don’t think he has any place to go,” Wonwoo tells him. “Or he forgot where home is.” Soonyoung almost lets out a snort at that.

Wonwoo’s father looks Soonyoung in the eye, lets his eyes trail down to the fingers wrapped around a mug of steaming tea. “He could be bad luck,” he says to Wonwoo.

“It doesn’t matter.” It shouldn’t matter, he means. Wonwoo offers Soonyoung a smile and asks him if he’d like to go on the boat with them.

The boat is dingy yet roars with life, nothing creaking as if to say _I’m still alive_. They go far out to sea, where it’s deep enough that Soonyoung can see his reflection on the water’s surface, unpeturbed until Wonwoo and his father toss something over the edge to draw the fish up then a net to catch whatever can’t escape.

It’s a process, and Soonyoung feels like squirming every time new fish land flopping on their sides on the floors of the boat, the sun beating overhead on his bare shoulders and the back of his neck. Sweat beads up on the surface of his skin, and he knows it’s not seawater because when he cups some of it into his hand and brings it to his nose, it smells strongly of himself, heady, musky.

“We’re gonna head back soon,” Wonwoo says breathlessly, “otherwise it’ll be too hot for us.” Soonyoung nods and wonders if the skins of the fish are slick with sweat, too, in this sweltering heat.

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung sits up from his bed and is tempted to open the window next to him, just a crack to let the night breeze in, but he finds it too cold, so he shrinks back down into his bed, his blanket, extremities stretching towards warmth.

A little while later, a knock on his door, then Wonwoo’s voice slipping through the cracks. “Are you awake?” He has to open the door all the way anyway so he could see if Soonyoung is then lets out a relieved smile when their eyes make contact. “I know you haven’t been sleeping.” At Soonyoung’s frown, Wonwoo brings a hand up to his face, touching the area under his own eyes with gentle fingers. “Your eyes,” he supplies.

Soonyoung mimics Wonwoo’s gesture, wincing at how tender his own undereye area feels (he hasn’t seen himself recently but he’s scared that he won’t recognise himself).

“Do you mind if we talk for a bit?” Wonwoo asks. “I can’t sleep.” And it could be for any reason, really—Soonyoung thinks it’s because the calm outside was broken for a few hours, making the joints of their house shake, but he can’t ask.

So he pats the space on the bed in front of him and waits for Wonwoo to settle down.

“You know, when I was younger, my dad used to go on longer trips… He’d come back after a few days, and I was left home because someone had to take care of it,” Wonwoo begins in a low voice. “I wanted to go with him but he never let me, and through all the nights he was gone, I kept thinking tsunamis would come and swallow me whole.” Soonyoung lets out a smile. “Every time I look at you, I kept thinking that the younger me would’ve needed someone like you…”

And Soonyoung can definitely imagine it: a scrawnier Wonwoo, watching the way the sea breaks up the shore, eyes trained for a sign of a boat sailing towards home.

“Do you remember how you got here?” Soonyoung nods. “Can you write?” Wonwoo then asks, grinning when Soonyoung shakes his head. “I can’t read either, so I’ll just have to guess.”

Soonyoung ends up grinning, and Wonwoo’s eyes shine at that.

“You’re from across the sea,” Wonwoo surmises after a while. A shake of Soonyoung’s head gets Wonwoo throwing his head back with a sheepish smile. Wonwoo tucks his legs closer to chest, so Soonyoung does the same and watches the way his toes wiggle and burrow into the bedsheet. “Did you get drunk one night? Find yourself here?”

Another shake of Soonyoung’s head, this time with a wry smile and a cocked brow.

“Okay, okay, fine. You…” Wonwoo meets Soonyoung’s eyes and brings himself closer to Soonyoung. He reaches for one of Soonyoung’s hands, both of which were wrapped around his legs, and examines it, as if he’s searching for webbing between the digits. “You’re from a kingdom under the sea and you ran away from home,” he says quietly. “You had a tail instead of legs… It was green—Blue is better, I think. It was blue, right?”

Soonyoung can’t help staring at how—in the quiet of a seaside cottage, Wonwoo’s father snoring in the other room—Wonwoo tells his story in whispers, lit only by the candle he brought into Soonyoung’s room.

“And you have nightmares because the guilt keeps you awake,” Wonwoo tells him. “You want to go home, but you don’t know how to. You think you made the wrong choice.”

If Soonyoung closes his eyes, he can hear the roar thrumming underneath the waves lapping up the shoreline, but he chooses to focus on Wonwoo placing Soonyoung’s hands back where he found them, his plumping up the pillow behind Soonyoung’s back, the smile making his mouth curl up.

“You should sleep,” Wonwoo offers gently. “Stuff like that only happens in fairytales.”

 

 

 

There is the impression that Wonwoo doesn’t really care about the story, or that he’s given up trying to figure it out. With him, Soonyoung learns how to clean abalone for the porridge (scrub the flesh with salt, cut off the guts but set them aside, score the flesh before slicing) and how to mend shirts torn from years of wear (Wonwoo’s way is to get patches from clothes too small for anyone in the house).

“Yeah,” Wonwoo breathes out while Soonyoung’s fingers are struggling with the stitching, “like that.”

At the next turn, Soonyoung pricks his finger, and the most gorgeous drop of blood beads up on the tip of his finger, perfectly round and a bright red. He’s jumped a little from the initial prick, the jolt enough to make Wonwoo reach for his hand in alarm.

“Are you hurt?” Soonyoung shrugs. He can’t admit that he wants to see the bead of blood well up and spill down his finger. He imagines more welling up from that tiny hole in his skin. “We should clean it up,” Wonwoo adds without much worry in his voice but with his eyebrows knitted together.

Every single shirt in the house is white, Soonyoung notes, and the pristineness demands delicacy; he can’t stain any one of them.

Wonwoo gets up and comes back with a clean washcloth, dabbing at Soonyoung’s finger with care. Soonyoung wants to apologise, but he thinks he looks helpless when he meets Wonwoo’s eyes. Wonwoo takes the shirt from him and finishes the sewing, his fingers long and thin and deft, holding the needle with ease.

When he’s finished and set the whole thing down, Soonyoung reaches for his hand and places his own on top, their palms aligned so Soonyoung can see the distance between the tips of their fingers. Wonwoo curls his hand against Soonyoung’s and laces their fingers together. Soonyoung can’t grasp how he’s holding onto something that isn’t spilling out of his hands.

 

 

 

On a particularly warm day, Soonyoung wakes up with his head pounding, and he only manages to swallow a bit of soup before Wonwoo makes him go back to sleep while he does chores around the house, laughing softly at Soonyoung’s weak protest until Soonyoung falls back asleep.

Soonyoung wakes up from his nap just as Wonwoo enters the room with a basket full of laundry, smiling back at the one Wonwoo’s just offered along with a whispered, “You should go back to sleep.” Soonyoung shakes his head and sits up to watch, his head clear but his eyes bleary.

Wonwoo hums. His wrists are light enough that Soonyoung’s afraid they’ll snap at any time—snap and not bleed, his bones must be hollow inside to be that light, no marrow to fill in the empty spaces.

But also, there would be so much blood. Wonwoo’s still humming. The life would drain out of him and stain the shirts.

“Are you okay?”

Soonyoung just stares—at Wonwoo’s wrists, how his sleeves loosen up and roll back down as if to protect them—and swallows.

“You look worried,” Wonwoo says. Soonyoung shakes his head. “Can I do something about it?” He ends up sitting on the bed across from Soonyoung, eyebrows still knitted together when Soonyoung starts to rub the translucent skin of Wonwoo’s wrists with his thumbs, feeling the blood pulse underneath. “I’m eating well, don’t worry.”

Thing is, Soonyoung’s joints are nowhere that fragile.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks. The sun makes him blinding. Soonyoung wants desperately to lower his eyes but instead he just shakes his head, making Wonwoo’s lips curl back into a smile and he laughs. “I’m serious, I’m eating just fine.”

Soonyoung cracks open a smile and starts to cry, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. None of it will stain Wonwoo’s wrists.

Wonwoo stares at first, then at some point, Wonwoo has to hold Soonyoung so he could stop shaking, leaving him to sob into Wonwoo’s chest. Maybe it’s how Soonyoung feels like his skin is about to burn off, how light he is in the head, but the image is hard to shake, and so he cries.

“Hey… I’ll cry, too, if you keep crying like this… I wish you can tell me what’s wrong… I’ll eat more, I promise…”

 

 

 

They run out of rice a few days after, with a few wilted vegetables left for them to cook alongside whatever fish they catch for themselves. At breakfast, Wonwoo says, “I have to go to town. Want to come with?”

Soonyoung cleans up, piling all the dishes into the sink for washing. The stove has to be cleaned, the gas running through it replaced. Beds have to be refitted with bedsheets. He makes a big shrug to say _Do you want me to?_ that Wonwoo lets simmer until he smiles in the end.

“We got a lot of stuff to do today, yeah? And you need a headstart?” Wonwoo laughs when Soonyoung smiles. “Then I’ll see you when I get home?” he prompts. Soonyoung nods as he drags the sleeve of his sweater past his knuckles. 

Wonwoo leaves a little while later, and Soonyoung can hear the engine of the motorcycle as his fingers get stuck between the mattress and the frame as he tucks his new bedsheet in. It takes a while for Soonyoung to notice that the thing that’s missing is Wonwoo’s soft singing, and he frowns at the thought of not being able to fill up the spaces himself.

 

 

 

“Did you miss me?” Wonwoo jokes when he gets back as he drags a sack of rice that looks bigger and weightier than he is into the kitchen.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes then goes to replace the vegetables in the crisper, the bottles of soy sauce and vinegar in the cupboard. Wonwoo’s bought eggs, too, and Soonyoung could laugh at the feathers still stuck to one of them.

But, yes, he did miss Wonwoo, and he’s grateful for the noise.

“I was thinking a lot,” Wonwoo says after everything’s put in its place. A smile creeps up his face, unbidden, and he lets out a tight laugh. “It’s… silly, but it makes me happy.” He moves a little closer to Soonyoung, who is standing by the kitchen counter, and smiles down at him. “It’s silly, because… I want to kiss you. Is that bad?”

A silent laugh bubbles out of Soonyoung, his cheeks warming up. Wonwoo reaches for his face, thumbs stroking Soonyoung’s cheeks with a shy fondness.

“Is it?” Wonwoo asks again. Soonyoung shakes his head. “I’m glad. I wanted to for a while now, I think.” Soonyoung is painfully aware of Wonwoo between his legs, of his own legs and how they’re trembling in their place, of the burning in his gut and of the solidness of Wonwoo when he wraps his arms around Wonwoo’s shoulders as they kiss.

He’s aware of Wonwoo’s lips and of how he doesn’t know how to move his own except to mimic Wonwoo’s, their noses brushing when Wonwoo pulls away to breathe.

He’s all too aware of the silly smile on his mouth, of Wonwoo leaning in to kiss him again.

“So I mean that I like you,” Wonwoo says when they pull away for good. “I find it scary… and silly. I feel like none of this is permanent.” The way Soonyoung’s wrists are linked behind Wonwoo’s neck suggests otherwise. “If I ask you right now… I’m afraid I’ll put you on the spot,” Wonwoo admits. “Is that okay?”

Soonyoung feels like crying just from how much he wants to say that he feels the same way, but he nods and swallows the lump in his throat.

 

 

 

What Soonyoung likes is how he can come a little closer each time and steal a kiss.

 

 

 

But he doesn’t know what to do with this quiet boy that loves him, that doesn’t know if he’s loved back. They find space in the warmest hours of the day to laze around in bed—Wonwoo’s bed, the inherently bigger one with space for all of Wonwoo’s wiry limbs—and kiss until satisfied then kiss again.

Sometimes Wonwoo ends up falling asleep, and Soonyoung loves how smooth his face becomes in slumber; he traces out the lines of Wonwoo’s face with the tips of his fingers. If it was a heavy breakfast that day, it’s Soonyoung that falls asleep, and he wakes up with his head pillowed on Wonwoo’s arm, breathing into the crook of Wonwoo’s neck.

“I love you,” Wonwoo admits. A nod never feels like reciprocation, but it’s the best Soonyoung can muster on this particularly humid day. That, and peppering Wonwoo’s face with kisses. Those never feel like reciprocation, either.

Wonwoo wraps an arm around Soonyoung’s waist and pulls him closer, slips his fingers under Soonyoung’s shirt. “I want you, too,” he adds. “Is that okay?”

The heat pooling in Soonyoung’s stomach is close to burning. He gives another nod and slips his own hand underneath Wonwoo’s shirt, feeling the firmness of Wonwoo’s back, the heat. They kiss again. Wonwoo’s hand under his shirt moves forward and up, thumb grazing at Soonyoung’s nipple. Then his mouth on Soonyoung’s cheeks, tracing down his jaw.

But Soonyoung doesn’t understand until his fingers curl into Wonwoo’s waist and he sucks on the salty skin of Wonwoo’s throat. Wonwoo lets out a low groan, voice reverberating all around Soonyoung’s ears. It makes him wonder how he’d sound, if he’s as deep as Wonwoo is.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Wonwoo sighs. “Please.”

Soonyoung sucks on his skin again. Wonwoo lets out another groan that goes straight to Soonyoung’s cock, making Soonyoung arch up into the heat of Wonwoo’s body.

Wonwoo lifts up Soonyoung’s shirt and gets it off him, lowers his trousers. It’s hot outside, but Soonyoung shivers when his bare skin meets the warm bed. Wonwoo sits up to strip himself, exposing his taut body and how there is seemingly no soft edges in him except for his crinkling eyes and his gentle smile. He lets out a quiet laugh when he looks at Soonyoung.

“Like when I first found you,” he explains before lowering himself to kiss Soonyoung again. He makes a trail down Soonyoung’s body, tracing each dip and curve with his mouth then tongue, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful,” when he gets to Soonyoung’s jutting hipbone.

By then, Soonyoung is breathing heavily, breath coming out in pants that quicken when Wonwoo kisses the underside of his cock and slowly licks his way up to the head. He wants to articulate how beautiful Wonwoo looks but has to settle for reaching down to caress the side of Wonwoo’s face with the backs of his fingers. Wonwoo’s eyes crinkle to say he’s pleased.

It’s over a little too quickly. Soonyoung’s shaking all over, fingers trapped in Wonwoo’s hair. Wonwoo lets go; the corner of his mouth is stained white and dripping down his chin.

“Was that okay?” Wonwoo asks with a wide smile.

More than okay, Soonyoung wants to say. He brings Wonwoo up for a sloppy kiss and reaches down for Wonwoo’s cock, liking the weight of it in his hand and starting off with small strokes. Wonwoo murmurs his approval, and the murmurs turn into whimpers the closer he gets, the wetter and slicker he becomes. Soonyoung strokes him off until he comes with a cry, drawing out a long whine into Soonyoung’s ear that Soonyoung could listen to forever.

 

 

 

Soonyoung starts waking up a little earlier, before Wonwoo has a chance to stir. He tucks him in again then gets the rice cooking, the water boiling for the tea. Wonwoo’s father seats himself down at the dining table and lets out a surprised smile.

“Haven’t left yet, have you?” he asks. Soonyoung shakes his head and offers him a breakfast of rice and a fluffy omelette.

 

 

 

“You made breakfast for dad?” Wonwoo asks. Soonyoung nods. Wonwoo laughs and after putting his plates in the sink, he cups Soonyoung’s face and kisses him deeply. “You’re amazing.”

There’s a lump in Soonyoung’s throat, and he opens his mouth. “Wonwoo,” he says, and the sound of his own voice is surprising, but it startles Wonwoo. “I love you,” he then says.

“You—” Wonwoo ends up laughing, tears rolling down his cheeks. He sobs, nice and loudly.

“My name is Soonyoung,” Soonyoung says amidst Wonwoo’s crying, and Wonwoo just keeps laughing like he can’t believe it, “and I love you.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

“Are you sure?” Jeonghan asks. His tail curls off the edge of his chair, lapping gently up in curved flicks. He looks at Soonyoung with lidded eyes, fingers grazing the seabed. “It’s irreversible,” he then warns.

“I’m sure,” Soonyoung says. “I just don’t think there’s a life for me here…”

“And you think you’ll find one up there?” Jeonghan laughs, making Soonyoung pout. “I’m sorry; I just can’t imagine what kind of life you’d want to have up there. And I’m afraid that your big daddy will come after my tail when you’re gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung apologises.

“Don’t be. I’ll give you what you want,” Jeonghan says. He sits up and makes motions for Soonyoung to swim closer, cupping his face when he’s close enough. “On one condition.”

“Which is…?”

“You’ll lose your voice,” Jeonghan tells him. “I don’t understand you, Soonyoung, but I want some reassurance that you know what you’re doing. You’ll get your voice back when you find something up there worth living for.”

“And if I don’t?” Soonyoung asks.

“Be a sad mute up there for the rest of your sorry life,” Jeonghan deadpans, and Soonyoung laughs. “Their lives are shorter, by the way, so your misery won’t be as long.”

“You sound like you have no faith in me.”

“I really don’t,” Jeonghan says with a shrug and lets Soonyoung’s face go. “I’ll ask you again—are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jeonghan grins. “Good luck,” he wishes, then with a snap of his fingers, Soonyoung screams as a force cuts his tail in half.

**Author's Note:**

> MY BEEF WITH THE LITTLE MERMAID IS HOW THE ASSHOLE PRINCE KISSES HER BUT NEVER LOVES HER THE WAY SHE NEEDED HIM TO WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!
> 
> I'm sorry haha k bye


End file.
